Competition
by the Ambassador
Summary: Jack doesn't care to have outsiders on his turf. Darkness implied.


A/n: And now for a dose of darkness.

I own nothing but my laptop. Though soon I may own rotten fruit slung at me by the Jackfans.

* * *

**Competition**

By the time Torchwood found out that the world needed saving, it had been saved already, and the evidence that there had ever been a problem expertly hidden. But Tosh wasn't the best hacker on the planet for nothing. Digging deep, she found traces. But she couldn't believe what she'd found. The traces-they spoke of a supercomputer more powerful than anything Torchwood had to offer...and unknown to her, unregistered, unowned. Based in England, but not bounden to the Crown like Torchwood was. What sort of person owned this computer? A free agent. A loose cannon.

"A bitch," said Jack, looking over her shoulder.

Tosh looked up at him, worried. "Jack, do you know-"

"I know _of_ her." Jack pushed Tosh to the side, and started typing rapidly. He brought up files; and then a woman's face was staring out at them from the screen. Brown hair, blue eyes, maybe in her fifties to judge by the lines on her fine-boned face. Once she must have been a beautiful young girl. That was gone now; but in its place was another beauty, the beauty of strength, knowledge and pride. "Her name's Sarah Jane Smith."

Tosh frowned in confusion; Suzie set down her work and came over to look. "Who is she, Jack?" Toshiko asked.

"She's a freelancer," Jack replied immediately. "Thinks she's the Lone Ranger. She's a proud, stupid girl who did a bit of travelling and now thinks she knows it all. And to top it all off? She's a _pacifist_." Jack said the word as though it referred to someone who engaged in some disgusting but laughable perversion, and worse, had the bad taste and gall to do it openly. "She doesn't answer to anyone-not to the government, not to UNIT, and she won't touch us with a bargepole."

Torchwood Three's leader scratched his head, looking contemplative. "I can't deny she's done some kinda neat stuff, though. She's gotta be something special. If things were different, I'd like her on my team here...But there are ways and means, and she doesn't respect them. Doesn't record or report her contacts, doesn't do anything about witnesses past planting a few half-assed rumours, and hoards the stuff she scavenges."

In Tosh's knowledge, all that added up to _dangerous_. "Shouldn't we do something about her?" She bit her lip. Jack obviously disliked this woman's methods; for her, that was more than enough evidence that they were wrong.

Jack sighed in aggravation. "We can't. She's got powerful protection. UNIT protection. I know, I know," he held up a hand to forestall any comments, "she's not UNIT, but she's got friends there, at the top no less. I can't touch her." His mouth quirked upwards in a smile, and his eyes twinkled. "Which is a shame, 'cause she's a damn fine-looking woman."

"Typical Jack," Tosh giggled. "But isn't she a bit _old_ for you?" She didn't know why Jack thought that so funny that it demanded gales of riotous laughter, but apparently it did, so she laughed along with him.

When he'd sobered up a bit, Jack grinned, and said, "If I ever met her, you know what I'd like to do to her?"

"Do I even _want_ to know?" yelled Owen, who had been following the conversation from the autopsy bay.

Jack good-naturedly flipped Owen the bird, and continued, "I'd like to take her out to dinner, maybe by candlelight? Someplace nice. And share some stories about Aliens We Have Known. And after that, I'd do her, 'cause I bet a woman like her would be amazing in bed."

"And after that, I'd like to kill her."

His friendly grin did not alter. His tone remained matter-of-fact, joking.

"I'd kill her, painfully of course, and dump her body in the Thames. I wouldn't bother with concrete overshoes, that sorta thing-I'd want her body to be found. Floating in the river, the next morning, as the dawn broke. A little message for those in the business. _This is what you get if you fuck around with Torchwood_. If it's alien, it's _ours_."

The Hub was never warm. But suddenly, it seemed much colder.

Eventually, Owen broke the silence, with, "And you all say _I_ make inappropriate jokes."

"Yeah, but _you_ aren't the leader." Jack seemed unruffled, unconcerned, as if he'd said something of no more import than, 'the pterodactyl needs feeding'. "Ah! Coffee!" That was aimed at Ianto, who had just entered the room from the door leading to the lower levels and the Secure Archives; Ianto did not sigh or roll his eyes, but smiled, as he always did, and headed over to the coffee machine to make it at once. Jack closed the files on Sarah Jane Smith with a few quick swipes of the mouse, then loped off to hang over Ianto's shoulder annoyingly.

Suzie's lips were pressed white and thin. She took a deep breath, seemingly with effort, and for a moment looked as if she wanted to say something. But all that came out of her mouth was, "I should get back to work." She hurried back to her own workstation. Owen, watching her go, saw that she walked with her shoulders hunched up, defensive, sheltering. He looked away quickly, troubled.

Tosh kept perfectly still.

_It was a joke_, she told herself. _Just a joke_. And got on with work.


End file.
